


Tales of Life

by Aelaer



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Book, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Multi, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelaer/pseuds/Aelaer
Summary: A series of ficlets for a series of one-word prompts which include small excerpts of life experiences, everyday occurrences, important moments, and other such drabblings. All of them feature Aragorn, and include characters such as Arwen, members of the Fellowship, Halbarad, Faramir, and many others. All book-verse and meant to be extensions of canon. Featured characters besides Aragorn are labeled by chapter. More information in the first chapter's A/N.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Lost: The Quest (A. + Imrahil + OC)

**Author's Note:**

> Nearly 15 years ago, I started writing ficlets for one-word prompts provided by a Yahoo fanfiction group I was in at the time, all dedicated to our love for Aragorn. Since that was the theme of the group, that was the theme of my collection. I got up to 75 ficlets over the next five years before I ended up leaving the fanfiction community for several years.
> 
> This year, I decided to make a project of revamping all of these ancient ficlets to my current level of writing and bringing them here to AO3, though keeping the general plot of the original ficlets. I have no promise as to how frequently I will update, though generally speaking, feedback does help my muses. For the impatient, you can find all 75 on older fanfiction archives under this name, but be warned, you may find some of my older works very rough. My writing's changed quite a bit over the last decade.
> 
> To give you an example of the level of change I'm placing into these ficlets, the original of the following story was 474 words. This revamped one is 1247 words.

Prompt One: 'Lost'  
_Ficlet: The Quest  
7 FA, Minas Tirith_

The early afternoon sun was a gentle one that spring day. A low breeze brought fresh air from the south that smelled of the blooming flowers of Lossarnach. It lifted itself throughout the city of Minas Tirith, until it came through a high window and into the expansive study that belonged to the King of Gondor. He inhaled as it came through, offering him a bit of comfort in what was otherwise a droll, but necessary, process.

Aragorn Elessar finished reading through the document in front of him, then looked up across the desk to the man who brought it. "Lord Sirhael cannot be serious."

Prince Imrahil offered him a slight, wry smile. "Have you ever known Lord Sirhael to be a man of a jest?"

"It is not too late for him to gain a sense of humour," the king muttered in return. "I cannot accept his request. You told him this, yes?"

"Of course. I told him he was mad."

"He realizes that the Lords of Pelargir will tar and feather me if we grant such privileges to Dol Amroth—never mind what the smaller port cities would do."

"That is why I told him 'no'. That did not stop him from contacting you, regardless."

"Tar and feather, Imrahil. _Tar and feather._ " Aragorn exhaled and leaned back in his seat, ignoring the faint look of amusement on the prince's face. "I will have my secretary compose something appropriate, later. How many more petitions are left?"

Imrahil eyeballed the impressive stack of missives sitting on the corner of the king's desk. "Perhaps we are through a third of them?"

Elessar made a face and picked up the next one to read. "It would be much easier if Belfalas's nobility just took you at your word rather than raising all of these concerns to me."

"You have been on the throne for less than a decade, my lord. You need to be tested for at least a decade further in their eyes before they understand that my will generally aligns with yours."

He shot Imrahil a dry look as he saw the laughter in the prince's expression. "I am half-considering throwing the rest of these in the fire," he retorted. "If it were not for the couple that have had importance thus far, I may have done so!"

Imrahil leaned back in his chair, amusement not quite dissipated. "A brief break may do you good."

"Possibly," was Elessar's reply, but he ignored the taunting spring breeze and went to the next missive.

He and the prince were shaken out of their discussion not too long after as his study door slammed open. Decades of habit had him standing with the noise and reaching for a sword that did not currently hang from his belt.

His posture relaxed when Elessar saw no threat, but his confusion only rose when his sight and hearing caught up with instincts and he saw a familiar young girl rushing into the room. Beyond the open door, a young guard looked frozen in shock, as if a crying child were well beyond his capabilities.

Well, he would not blame him entirely if that were the case. Toddlers were quite—cumbersome. 

He spared an apologetic look to Imrahil as he turned his full attention to the sobbing child, who rushed past the prince without acknowledgement and rounded about the desk to cling onto the king’s legs. Elessar picked her up and quickly shushed her, rubbing her back and whispering soft words of comfort. After a couple minutes she quieted down, and he adjusted his hold on her so she could look directly at him.

"You have escaped your poor nanny once more, it seems," he said in greeting, keeping his tone light for the child. "She will be quite worried about you. Now what is so wrong that it leaves you in tears, _penneth_?”

“I… I… I lost Elwen, _ada_!” she cried, and started to cry once again. She threw herself into his shoulder, causing him to softly grunt at the force.

"Careful, there," Elessar lightly chided, then he offered a soft shushing noise to her cries and rubbed her back with slow circles. He glanced over the desk and mouthed, 'Sorry,' to Imrahil.

Imrahil did not bother to hide his amusement. He waved off the apology with a silent gesture, then mouthed back, ‘Who is Elwen?’

‘Her doll,’ he mouthed to the prince, and Imrahil's smile turned a little softer as his gaze unfocused. Remembering similar trials with his own children in decades past, more likely than not.

“Shh, do not cry, Eleniel,” he whispered to his daughter when her sobs did not relent. “She will turn up.”

“No she won’t!” Eleniel sobbed. “She was kidnapped and now she is gone forever!”

Imrahil made a noise which sounded like he was trying to cough over a laugh, and the king shot him an exasperated look. Imrahil only gave him a helpless shrug, and then his eyes lit up.

"If I may say, my lord, were we not just discussing a break?" Imrahil paused to gauge Elessar's response, and the king rolled his eyes and nodded at him once, though his lips curled up in amusement as he waited to see what Imrahil wanted to say. “Princess Eleniel, I believe you should see if your _adar_ might spare some time for a quest to look for your dol- Elwen,” he quickly amended as Eleniel started to shoot him a glare, as withering as any three-year-old was capable of.

The young princess started to process the thought, and her tears were soon replaced by a smile. “A quest? Like _ada’s_ quest?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes… well, somewhat,” said Imrahil with a smile to her.

Elessar smiled at his daughter, though he shot the prince a bit of an exasperated look. As much as he loved to spend time with his daughter, when he thought of a 'break', he considered five minutes of comfort for the toddler, not—however long it would take to find a small doll in their rather lofty living quarters, never mind elsewhere. He and Imrahil still had a long list of missives to discuss, after all, and he had other meetings set later in the afternoon.

But the breeze that day was nice, and it would give him a moment to stretch his legs. And, well, perhaps it would be best if he found the nanny himself to reassure her that he did not blame her for losing track of his daughter. Eleniel was part Elf, after all—in a manner of speaking. She was certainly more quiet than most toddlers, at least when she was not sobbing.

And, of course, he need not go on this quest alone. “And Prince Imrahil shall join this quest. Won’t you, Prince Imrahil?"

Imrahil made something of a face at Elessar. "As my liege commands," he answered dryly.

"We shall need your keen sight, after all," Elessar replied cheerfully. "Eyes for both little Elwen and her distressed nanny, who may know where Elwen is."

"Splendid," said Imrahil as he picked himself up. "I suppose the walk will be refreshing, regardless. At your lead, O King."

Elessar shot him a look of amusement, then left his study with his daughter in his arms and the Prince of Dol Amroth trailing. The guard at the study door closed it as they departed, and when Elessar turned the corner, he was sure that he heard muffled laughter coming from behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in the day random Sindarin phrases were well known in the fanfic community. I dunno how well they're known these days, so here's your Sindarin translations:
> 
> penneth - little/young one - fan-invented Neo-Sindarin compound (from two canon words) that caught on a long time ago  
> ada/adar - daddy/father - canon Sindarin


	2. Rain: Anywhere But Here (A. + OC)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original word count: 368; revamped: 531

_Prompt Two: 'Rain'_   
_Ficlet: Anywhere But Here  
3000 TA, borders of the Shire_

He hated the rain.

He really, really hated the rain.

There was an old saying that he heard the Halflings say often during this time of the year: that April showers bring May flowers.

Well, those Halflings were not stuck crouching in the entangling undergrowth in the middle of the night. They were not sitting underneath what little cover the trees provided for a body as a torrential downpour soaked everything it could reach. They weren't resigned to a freezing night of no warmth as the cold wetness got through every layer of clothing, leaving his body as warm as an icicle.

He would like to see _them_ try and stick it out on an evening like this; he bet that they wouldn’t last five minutes in this terrible weather. His frown deepened as he thought about them being all warm and cozy in their little holes right now. What he wouldn’t do to be back in his home, sitting beside a crackling hearth with the woman who waited patiently for his return. As he thought of her, a small smile came to his lips and he forgot about the terrible weather for the briefest of moments.

“Miserable, isn’t it?”

He started and looked to his right to where another man had just appeared. Thank goodness nothing foul was likely to brave this weather, if his concentration was slipping that badly. “Aye, sir,” he said in agreement. “Miserable.”

His Chieftain nodded and then gave the younger man a look. “Gilorn,” he started, “I have been sitting here for a few minutes and you did not even blink an eye in my direction. You know that inattentiveness could be your downfall.”

Gilorn was happy that it was dark; it would be mortifying if his Chieftain caught him blushing. The weather made that sort of detail impossible to see, thankfully—the one small, very small silver lining of its presence. “Sorry, sir. You are right, of course. I did not mean to get so caught up in thought."

“Thoughts that led you to anywhere but here and this damp misery, I warrant?”

The younger man hesitated; was this some sort of test? Still, he thought telling the truth was the best thing to do here and offered a short nod. To his amazement, the Chieftain broke out into a wry grin, the briefest of flashes of teeth that glinted in what little light there was.

“All of us would rather be elsewhere,” he said, then drew his hood in closer. “Take some rest; I will complete the remainder of your watch.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Quite,” he responded, and there was a lightness in his voice that belied the horrid weather. “There should be a spot near Halbarad where it is a bit drier. Get some sleep and dream of warmer places.”

Gilorn nodded, stood up, and left his Chieftain crouching in the bushes. Aragorn watched the young man until he was out of sight, glanced up at the downpour, then tried to make himself comfortable. As it started to rain harder and he began to lose more feeling in his extremities, he could not help but think one thought.

He hated the rain.


End file.
